History repeating itself?
by AmeliaEverdeen
Summary: It's 1966, Mary is seventy-five years old and she has just buried her second husband. Her only wish now is to retire back in Downton to live among the memories of her perfect first love. But as she witnesses the changes time has brought to Downton Abbey where her son George and his family live now, Mary will have to face how history seems to be repeating itself.


**A/N: **_Hello, hello! I know you are waiting for me to update both of my multichaps, but I had this in mind for a long time, so please accept it! It may feel silly to some of you, but I hope you like it anyway. Before you go any further, I feel I should clarify something to make the story a little bit more comprehensible. In my head canon after loosing Matthew, Mary remarried with Lord Anthony Gillingham. I have no idea of Fellowes' plans for season four, but from what I've gathered he seemed to be the one who will ultimately win Mary's heart, or something like that._

_Anyway, I leave you to this mini story and I'll clarify a bit more of the family tree after you've read it, just to make sure. _

_Enjoy!_

**History repeating itself?**

The _Swinging Sixties _they were calling them_. _If those absurd outfits shown into those colourful windows in Carnaby Street weren't vulgar enough, Mary thought, they surely had to make up just as an absurd name for them. What was swinging and why, she wasn't really sure.

It puzzled her how even fine and well bread girls like her beautiful granddaughters were also falling under the spell of those bold hairstyles, the stripes, those floral patterns and those very heavy and showy pieces of jewellery. She turned another page of her novel and chuckled a bit too herself. There wasn't anything bad about following the current fashion, she supposed. If she had been still young and vibrant she might have succumbed to those atrocities as well. But it was the very notion of it being 1966 that made Mary still hold on tight her painful corset.

She was seventy-five years old, but as she looked at Downton Abbey in the distance from her favourite bench under the Sycamore tree she didn't feel any older than twenty-one, the age in which her life, and the whole world shortly after, had changed forever. That place had the power to make time stand still, as the fierce architecture of her beautiful childhood home hadn't changed one bit, but time had indeed gone by, and she had changed irrevocably. Her hair had gradually lost their chocolate-brown colour and were now fading to a candid shade, while her skin once pale and soft, was now wrinkled and tainted by her old age. But it wasn't just the inevitable degradation of her body that made Mary feel so terribly old: she knew that when she stepped through that front door now she was _Granny_, and the affectionate name was enough to make her chuckle every time.

She had thought it would have been harder to bury her second husband, but maybe it was her old age or simply the gratitude for the nice life they had spent together, that had made the transition to her new state of widowhood much easier than the previous time. Her children had suggested various options for her, especially her darling daughter Lady Violet Gillingham, who had asked her to go live with her family, but when in the end Mary had decided she wanted to spend the rest of her old age in Downton, in the house her grandmother used to live, no one had objected.

Everyone had been so gracious about it, her late husband Anthony more than any others; but even if she was alone now, even if she had obediently fulfilled her duty as a wife for all those years, she couldn't help but feeling a little guilty sitting on that bench. Because right there, in that moment, Mary did not think of Anthony's brown eyes circled by thin lines when he had proposed to her, no … Sitting on that bench made her think of 1912, of blue eyes and modest lawyer suit, of blue eyes and a charming red mess kit, of blue eyes staring at her with no more fear and restraint, of blue eyes crying of joy to the news of a new life growing inside of her.

Maybe it was not proper but Mary had given up being perfect so long ago now, and that place was so full of him, so full of Matthew and finally getting to live alone with his memory was all she had ever wanted.

A soft breeze started to blow and as the chill started to give her that now familiar pain on the back of her neck, she stood up with the help of her cane and tucked the small novel she was reading in the pocket of her blazer. It was "Animal Farm" by George Orwell, a novel which had been talked about a lot after the second World War. It wasn't exactly an appropriate reading for a woman of her background, but she quite enjoyed that fine critic to the Communism and she remembered still with amusement the discussion that the tiny book had originated between her, her old father and her brother-in-law Tom, when it had just come out in 1945.

Mary also remembered she had thought of how Matthew would have loved it as well. A shy smile creeped on her old face as she imagined how Matthew would have loved to scare their grandchildren by making them believe their pigs were up to something. That little fantasy warmed her heart instantly and her mind was filled once again with the memories of his beautiful smile on that handsome young face. So as she walked back to the big entrance with those images in her mind, Mary allowed herself to fantasize one more time, and as she walked through the door Matthew was beside her, his blue eyes so filled with love and adoration and his face as young as the day he had made her his wife.

"Good afternoon, Lady Mary." the old butler greeted her cordially, hurrying up to help her with her coat.

As Thomas Barrow showed her to the library, Mary could not help herself from wondering about what poor old Carson would have thought of the new butler of Downton Abbey. Even her father would have complained about the choice, but George was the Earl of Grantham now, and he saw how the years had softened the 'troubled' butler, who was now wiser and incredibly faithful to his new master.

Thomas announced her solemnly, but as she walked in the library with her usual slow pace, George did not turn his back right away. He was looking thoughtfully into his wife's eyes while he sat at the wooden desk, and when the pretty lady looked away first, George noticed the presence of his old mother and stood up instantly.

"Good afternoon, Mama." he greeted her gently, offering a warm smile.

Mary felt her heart jump as usual as those crystal blue eyes landed on her. She had thought she would have got used to it over the years, but her darling boy George looked far too much like his father to leave her completely indifferent. As her daughter-in-law kindly helped her to the sofa, Mary watched her son carefully and realized that while he looked so much like Matthew, in that moment he resembled astonishingly her late father and George's grandfather, Robert Crawley.

George had the same look he'd had when he had told Mary about how the National Trust had advance the proposal to turn great part of Downton Abbey into a museum open for the public. Mary had snorted quite loudly and very ungraciously at the retelling of the story, but George (so very like his father) had wondered whether it truly was a bit selfish to keep their big house all to themselves.

That particular topic of conversation had disappeared pretty quickly though, for George knew pretty well that just as Mary's father would not dare to do anything without her grandmother's approval, so he wouldn't dare doing anything without Mary's approval as well. But this time, even if very similar, the look in George's eyes was different and it brought her back to that fateful year, 1912, and to the way her father looked at her.

"George, darling, is there something bothering you?"

The sixth earl of Grantham took a deep breath and walked to the sofa to sit right in front of his old mother. His blue eyes met the pale green of her wife's, Emily Crawley, and when he was close enough she took his hand and intertwined her fingers with his, in a simple gesture full of love and tenderness. That little scene warmed Mary's heart as she once again witnessed how still deeply in love her son and Emily were.

It had been a terrible mess when after his much awaited return from the war, George had announced the family his inflexible decision to marry his true love and childhood friend, Emily Bates. The news had almost given Robert a heart attack, but the second world war had torn down more and more pointless social barriers, and Mary had given in quite effortlessly to the idea; recognizing that Emily was probably the only woman she could never have hated for taking her boy away from her.

"Dearest Mama, we've come across a certain situation … Some might define it _ironic_, I suppose …" George said carefully, as Mary's eyes studied him closely, " You know how the law still imposes that the title to an estate is passed on only through the male succession," he kept going as Mary nodded quickly, " and how … well, problematic it is since Emily and I have only two daughters—"

"Yes, I am aware that you have only Mary and Michelle," Mary interrupted him through his speech, "I'm still very vigilant, you know …" she mocked her son under his smile, " but I thought everything was going to be passed on to Johnny, and since he's well off with my husband's estate and his father's money, I don't think your daughters, and especially Mary, will have any problems on the matter."

George and Emily quickly exchanged an amused look, inspired by Mary's incredible responsiveness. She often acted like she didn't understand one bit about those legal matters, but when it came to her children she was willing to swallow an encyclopedia, if necessary.

"It is not so simple, I'm afraid …" George replied, awed by her mother's worried look, " See, even if Johnny is your grandson and the closest male blood relation we have, he is not a Crawley per say. What I mean is that he cannot inherit either the estate, nor the title if there is another heir descending from a long line of Crawley _men_ …"

"Which _there is _apparently, isn't it?" Mary asked bitterly, with the subtle irony that characterized the women of her family.

George nodded slowly, and glanced at Emily one more time before continuing, "I've had the lawyers look into it and I'm afraid the relation is all a bit messy," George explained as he sworn he'd heard his mother mumble '_of course it is_', "It has something to do with Papa's third cousin …"

"_Oh Lord,_" Mary sighed loudly, surprising both George and Emily that she would sound so annoyed at the mention of George's father, " Don't look at me like that! You know I loved you father dearly, but he was a simple solicitor from Manchester before he came here! From what we know his third cousin might have been a construction worker, or a circus artist!"

"Actually," George interrupted his mother a bit annoyed this time, "his descendant is an american bloke of twenty-five years old, who makes his living in Los Angeles as a …" the words were on the tip of his tongue, but speaking them under her mother's patronizing gaze proved to be a very difficult task, "Well, he works as – I mean … He is an _actor, _Mama."

"_What?!_"

George's words echoed loudly in Mary's mind. _An american actor heir of Downton Abbey? _It had to be a joke. Seriously, George and Emily must have overestimated the strength of her heart. But when Mary looked up to their faces again, they were serious as ever.

"Mama, what do you think about it?"

_What did she think?_ She thought that certainly her late granny Violet must have been tossing and turning in her grave in that moment. A _bloody actor_, that surely had inspired a laugh from George's lawyers when they had found out, it surely would have amused Matthew to no end.

"I think it is about damn time you try and break that absurd entail , that is what I think!" Mary spelled carefully, without hiding her bitterness on the matter. Surely she had come to understand the reasons her father had given her when he had decided not to break the entail back in 1912. He had labeled himself as a "custodian" to the estate rather than an owner, and as much as she had resented him for that, years had made her wiser and more willing to understand. But this was completely different.

Matthew (even if for a small period of time), Tom and lastly her son George had not been simple _custodians_. They had worked hard over the years to make Downton what it was now, a powerful empire which could stand on its own two feet. Robert had done nothing to deserve what he had, but George had worked all his life to make their home safe for his children. What right did this american _parvenu_ have to come and take all of this away from them?

"We did think about it," George admitted interrupting Mary's train of thought, " but _Mama_, I – I don't think I can do this." Mary opened her mouth in shock and was ready to reply straight away, ready to tell him how irresponsible he was being towards his family, but as she looked into her son's deep blue eyes it hit her. _Of course_, Mary thought, how could he deny this mysterious man the same fate that had brought his father to Downton, that had brought Matthew to Mary, that had brought _him _to life. Mary felt a little guilty of not having thought of it that way, but it still did not mean she was terribly happy about it. In the end she was still her old self, and her George was his father's son more than ever, with the same sense of honour and the same stubbornness that had always annoyed Mary incredibly, but that had also made her fall in love with him more than ever.

"Are you talking about the american _clown_ that is going to steal away my inheritance?" a loud but composed voice had startled the three figures sitting on the sofa.

Mary smiled as her eyes landed on the beautiful granddaughter who bore the same first name as hers. Lady Mary Anna Crawley walked elegantly through the big library's door and quickly walked to kiss her grandmother on her cheek, as her long golden locks swayed at the same rhythm of her hips. She was wearing a black high neck cardigan tucked into a wool skirt which stopped at the level of her knees and matched perfectly the red of her lipstick. She was the most beautiful twenty years old girl in whole wide world to Mary, and she knew it was not fair to pick favourites among her grandchildren, but life wasn't fair and she simply couldn't help it.

"Papa said that this whole situation is the same that had brought grandfather here when you were younger, but I know dearest Granny that you think such speech as ludicrous as I do …" she said with incredible confidence, as she took a seat beside her grandmother. She smiled and waited patiently for the older woman's response, staring at her with her big brown eyes.

Mary smiled back to her favourite grandchild, and was reminded of the time in which she had complained about being the only one in the family with those anonymous dark eyes. Mary had smiled and stroked her beautiful blonde hair as she had told her how she had also been the only one with dark eyes among her sisters, and how Matthew had confessed to her once that it had been the very first detail that had drawn him to her instead of everybody else. _That_ and her extremely cutting wit, which Mary was happy to notice her homonymous granddaughter was not short of.

"I don't know my child," Mary replied sweetly, " in the end the decision lies within your father." she finished, noticing the disappointment in her granddaughter's expression.

"Mary dear, we've already been over this," George interjected, "it is not of your concern and you'll have plenty of money to go around in your trust fund …"

"I will only have to move out of my home whenever you decide to call it quits!" the young Mary cried theatrically.

"Mary!" Emily scolded her immediately for her interesting choice of words.

"I'm sorry, but what exactly is your brilliant plan after you invite him here? Do you expect me to marry him so I can become the new Countess of Grantham?" Mary continued with her polemic tone, "It might have worked for Granny, but we are in the sixties now! I will never ever consider marrying someone if love isn't in the picture!"

"Sweetheart, no one is asking you to marry the new heir …" Emily offered to calm her daughter down.

" I only invite him here to be polite." George specified.

"You invited him to come here?" the older Mary intervened, " From America?"

"Yes, Mama, from America. He will come here and I'll explain to him the situation face to face, it is as simple as that."

"Oh, I see. And when are we to expect him? In a month, maybe two?"

George chuckled, "No, Mama. He will be here in a couple of weeks, travel is much faster now that they have invented airplanes …"

"Oh dear … I wouldn't hop on one of those things even with a gun pointed to my temple!"

"He—llo my beautiful family!" a cheerful, almost silly voice broke out into the seriousness of the library and caused everyone to turn their heads. Mary rolled her eyes as she watched her younger sister Michelle jumping up and down in their direction. The look the other three people in the room had on their faces however, was completely different.

"What in God's name are you wearing, Michelle?" George voiced loudly, almost in a growl.

"What, this?" Michelle asked nonchalantly, after giving a look to herself, " It's a mini skirt, don't you like it?"

"Of course I don't like it!" George raised his voice, "You look like you've forgotten to wear you trousers!"

"But _everyone_ is wearing them now! It is in every fashion's magazine!" Michelle protested animately, as her grandmother noticed how her outfit left very little to the imagination.

"I don't care what the magazines say! You are not leaving the house – no, your room wearing _that thing!_"

"Let's make a deal then," Michelle replied very calmly, " _I_ stop wearing mini skirts and _you_ let me go to the _Beatles_' concert in may!"

George sighed exasperated, "Why must I suffer so much because of four blokes from Liverpool and their funny sense of _music_?" he shot a last look at his mother, almost as if he was asking for her help.

"Oh don't look at me George," Mary replied, "I have absolutely no idea of what you are talking about."

"I know Mama," he replied affectionately, " but do you see with what I have to put up with every day?"

Mary could not contain her chuckles, she looked at her beautiful granddaughters, then at Emily and finally at her annoyed son, "You think this is bad? May I remind you your aunt eloped with the chauffeur?"

* * *

A few weeks later Mary had just finished adjusting her hair with the help of her maid, and she sighed as she stood up and got a glimpse of her old self in the full body mirror. She had always been a little vain, and had often wandered what Matthew would have said about her appearance now, if they had had the chance to grow old together. Would he have thought her beautiful as he did when she was still in her youth? Mary shook her head, and as she helped herself to the staircase out of her bedroom, she smiled to herself thinking of how she would have done anything to keep him interested, if he had been still by her side.

Apparently the american heir had already arrived and the first embarrassing dinner had already taken place at Downton Abbey. As much as Mary would have loved to witness those inevitable fireworks, she hadn't felt quite well that night, so she was getting ready to go meet the heir for tea at Downton Abbey in that precise moment. She hadn't heard much about the mysterious fellow yet, apart from very contradictory opinions from her granddaughters and a quick telephone call with her old maid Anna (who was now George's mother-in-law) who had told her the boy was '_terribly nice_', but that didn't count much seeing as Anna thought most of the world _nice_.

George's chauffeur arrived on time to pick her up, and as she hopped in the car and thought about all of the witty remarks about America that she could have made, Mary could hear very clearly in her head Matthew's voice commanding her to be as nice and charming as he knew she could be. She chuckled at the memory of his commands, knowing that as much as he really meant them, it also amused him to no end to witness his wife outsmarting everyone in the room. Mary knew that for that reason, Matthew would have absolutely loved their granddaughters and she imagined how much fun he would have had during their incredibly entertain christmases.

But her smile faded once again when her mind traveled to Anthony. Living at Downton made it really easy for Mary to block him out of her mind, to only think about the few memories of her short marriage with her one true love. But she simply couldn't ignore the fact that Anthony had been the most loving husband for great part of her life, and that he had loved George and her granddaughters just as he had loved Violet and Johnny. Mary couldn't ignore that, but that didn't stop her from admitting that, even in the tenderest moments, being loved by Anthony hadn't been anything close to being loved by Matthew.

A shiver went through her old, paining back as she remembered the last time they had made love. Matthew had been more passionate and more loving than ever, almost as he had somehow sensed his premature end had been near. Mary remembered the awful creak that ancient bed in Downeagle Castle made, as they kept moving together while their moans and chuckles were being overwhelmed by the hideous sound of those scottish bagpipes. Not even twenty-four hours later, George had just been welcomed into the world, while his father was leaving it for good.

Mary's thoughts were brought back to reality as she heard the sound of the breaks of the old car, and she turned her head to see Thomas ready to open the door for her. She smiled kindly at him and felt a little bad since the butler seemed to be doing everything himself these days. The house could still afford maids and footmen of course, but the majority of the staff no longer lived in the house with their masters, and the full set of servants was only called up for very special occasions. The house had something called 'central heating' now, that apparently dispensed the need of having someone start the fires before dawn, and the usual maids now were employed under a so-called cleaning company, which sent them only two or three times a week. They still had a smaller staff in the kitchen of course, that kept everything in check and took care of the family, but the welcoming duties on any day seemed to be left solely on the butler's shoulders, who just as Mary had seen the House going through so much over the years.

"Good Morning Lady Mary, his lordship and his family are waiting for you in the drawing room," Thomas informed her, and after having taken her coat as usual, he walked her to the room which was so familiar to her.

"Oh Granny, finally!" Michelle cried as her grandmother walked through the door, " We were afraid we wouldn't have the time to talk about the heir before he got here!"

"Why?" Mary asked as she took a sit between the two girls, "Isn't he here yet?" she said looking at her son curiously.

George chuckled and exchanged a complicit glance with Emily, " He's staying in a hotel just outside the village," he explained as he caught Mary's disgusted expression at the word _hotel_, " he said he didn't think we had enough _room _to accommodate him …" the three older people shared a little laugh, while the young Mary made a loud annoyed sound.

"What a savage!" she cried snobbishly.

"Mary!" Emily scolded her, showing she immensely disapproved such temperament from her daughter.

"I'm only pointing out that if they call you and tell you that you are going to inherit a title and a great estate, at least you should have the decency to do some research about it!"

Mary could not help but agreeing with her granddaughter, but before she could voice her opinion she was anticipated by Michelle, who cried excitedly, "But he hasn't got time for that! He has places do be and films to shoot, he's a man of the world!"

"Oh _my,_" Mary commented, " should I presume you're all familiar with his _work_?" she asked her son.

"Emily and I are not, but apparently the girls are." George informed her with an amused expression.

"_Sadly._" the young Mary added confirming what her father had just said.

"Oh, Mary! How can you be so contrary?" Michelle interjected with her usual pitched voice, "Before we knew he was the heir you even said he was _hot_!"

Mary chuckled a bit to herself as she witnessed the exchange. _Hot_, that was a new one. She could only suppose by the redness of young Mary's cheeks that the word must have had a close meaning to _handsome_, even though she couldn't exactly be sure of that. The evolution of the english language in those years had been a complete mystery.

"Shut up, Michelle!" the older sister replied, shooting daggers at the hyperactive young lady. " And I am a woman, _I can be as contrary as I choose_!" Mary was more and more amused to recognize the same words her own grandmother had told her years before, but when she looked up at George, he did not look pleased at all.

"Fine!" Michelle cried, "If you don't want him, _I _might take him for a _spin_ …"

"Girls, settle down!" George almost shouted, bringing the quite back in the drawing room, " And you are not taking _anyone_ for a _spin_, young lady! You're only seventeen!"

It was Michelle's turn to grunt, and that was when Mary decide to intervene, "Alright … It seems we have very different opinions about the young man. But may I ask, does the gentleman have a name?"

"Of course he does," George sighed, " his name is _Matt Taylor._"

"Matt Taylor?" Mary echoed, " _Oh dear _…"

"Milord?" Thomas interrupted them entering the room, "I'm very sorry to interrupt, but Mr Taylor is here."

"Of course," George replied at once, " send him in!"

Thomas stepped back elegantly and let the young man in. He was tall with very dark brown hair and as he approached them in his confident pace, Mary noticed how shiny his blue eyes were, proper Crawley blue eyes. He didn't look so pleased, probably because he had heard Mary's annoyed remark or maybe because he felt quite intimidated by the gaze of the oldest Crawley girl (Mary could blame him for that); but from what she could gather, he was indeed _hot_.

Mary couldn't possibly recount of what girls of this age liked in a man, but that Mr Taylor over there had what someone could define a _classically handsome face_, and she knew it must have required a lot of effort from her granddaughter to pretend to despise him so much.

"Matt, I'm really glad to introduce you to my dear mother, Lady Mary Gillingham."

Matt stepped forward and shook Mary's hand, "Nice to meet you, Lady Gillingham. My name is Matt Taylor."

Mary shook his hand and promised herself she wouldn't nag him for having messed her title up, but she couldn't possibly restrain herself from correcting his form of greeting. "_How do you do,_ Mr Taylor?"

"I—I've heard so much about you _m'am_," _there_, another mistake, "but I must admit I'm quite surprised you haven't taken your husband's name, I figured your lot cares a lot about this stuff."

Mary tried to figure out the best way not to appear impolite, but her granddaughter anticipated her, "Of course she took her husband's name!" the young Mary spelled polemically in Matt's direction, "But women _do _remarry, you know …"

"Oh, I'm sorry …" Matt quickly apologized, " It seems I'm pretty ignorant when it comes to family history!"

"It's quite alright," Mary reassured him, taking everyone else in the room by surprise, " My maiden name was actually Crawley, and so was George's father so I didn't really need to change my name then. But when he died prematurely, I remarried to Lord Anthony Gillingham and this time there was no way of avoiding to take my husband's name." she smiled sincerely, and noticed how the young man looked a bit puzzled by the quick family outline, but she was sure he would eventually keep up. "Now you must forgive me, but by the look you had on your face when you came in, it seems you may have heard my comment when my son told me your name. You must know I did not mean to discredit you in any way, I was just very surprised … I didn't realized your name would sound so _american_ …"

Matt seemed intimidated by the old woman, but when she spoke her last sentence he appeared quite relieved and he even let himself go in a chuckle. "Well, there is no problem at all between us then, because that is not my _real _name!"

"What do you mean, it is not your real name? Are you an international spy or something?" Mary asked, sharing everyone's wonder.

Matt giggled, "Oh no no," he reassured her, " you see, the name I commonly use is a … _stage name_, for my profession! I borrowed my mother's maiden name because I felt my real name sounded a bit too respectable …"

Mary thought that probably the meaning of the world _respectable_ had to have a whole another meaning in America, but she decided to ask anyway, "And what is your _real_ name, pray?"

"It's Crawley, _m'am. _My real name is _Matthew Crawley_."

Mary stopped and stared at his oblivious expression, as the room was quickly filled by a silent stupor. She smiled a little to herself and thought of her true love up in the sky. _Lady Mary _and _Matthew Crawley _together again under the roof of Downton Abbey. Mary shook her head and wandered, if this was not a funny twist of fate, was it maybe history repeating itself?

**A/N: **_Well, here it is. I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I've enjoyed writing it! I have no knowledge of the british law, so I've probably said a lot of crap, but I will call upon creative licence! _

_This is a one-shot for now, so I'll mark it as complete, but I might consider it turning it into a multichapter if you guys think it's a good idea, and if I'll feel like entering the glamourous world of the sixties. In any case any further update will have to follow the completion of my other two multichaps!_

_Now time from the family three: Mary obviously married Matthew and had their son and heir George Crawley, who married Emily Bates (daughter of John and Anna Bates) and had the two girls you've just met, Mary Crawley and Michelle Crawley. _

_Several years after Matthew died, Mary married Anthony Gillingham and had Violet Gillingham, who married some rich entrepreneur and had a little boy called Johnny._

_Since it is a one shot for now, I haven't really thought about Edith's children and grandchildren, but in my head canon Sybil Branson (George's first cousin) has joined doctors without borders and is off in Africa saving one life after the other._

_That should be all, I won't clarify how exactly the young Matthew Crawley is related to all of them, because it probably wouldn't make any sense and I needed it to be this was for the story._

_I really hope you've liked it, thanks for reading … reviews are love!_


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